


Hell is Empty

by the_brightest_light



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, M/M, One Shot, kid stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:36:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_brightest_light/pseuds/the_brightest_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days that Peter can't believe that Stiles is his. It's true what they say, hell is empty and all the monsters are here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell is Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I wrote this after seeing a prompt in the steter tag. No beta so all mistakes are my own. Although Stiles is around 6 in this fic, there's nothing sexual between him and Peter (yet).
> 
> Derek is still Alpha after killing Peter who comes back thanks to Lydia. He finds Stiles sometime after his resurrection.

Peter wakes suddenly. He blinks a few times, before slowly rolling to the edge of his bed. He spends a moment, as he does every morning, to appreciate the softness of his Egyptian cotton sheets. Derek had thrown him into a wall when he found out that Peter had used his nephew’s card to pay for them. They were originally intended to be a housewarming present of sorts for Derek, but of course his _Alpha_ had ignored Peter’s attempts to calmly explain the situation and had chosen to use his fists. Oh well, they would’ve have been wasted on Derek anyway- the savage probably considered hot, running water a luxury. 

He hears a crash from the kitchen, what sounds like cutlery clattering on the floor, and two heartbeats- one odd, uneven and familiar rhythm and the other sluggish. Thank God. Peter adores Stiles, truly he does, but he doesn’t appreciate his Sunday lie ins being interrupted by the screams of whatever fool that had pissed of his boy that week pleading for mercy. He enjoys it of course, listening to their pathetic whimpers, and sobs as they begged for their lives. His favourites were the arrogant ones who thought of themselves as ‘alpha males’, as if they had any understanding of the power of an actual Alpha, and Stiles seemed to realise this. Peter never mentioned it, but Stiles always made the extra effort to make those ones piss themselves, and would prolong his playtime with them. But sometimes Stiles can get carried away, and Peter would have to deal with the clean-up- a necessary, but irksome evil.

The best part wasn’t listening in, though that in itself was wonderful. Hearing their screams, Stiles delighted laughter and inhaling the combined scent of the toy’s terror and the pure _joy_ that could only come from a child was something that Peter hoped he would never have to give up. The best part was when Peter would walk towards the kitchen, slowly, deliberately so that his footsteps could be heard. He would hear Stiles heartbeat rise in excitement, but as for the toy…well it was often a mixture of dread and hope. He would open the kitchen door, and watch as the fear evident on the toy’s face would transform into tentative hope in just a few heartbeats. Inhale the scent of their relief as they thought at last, an adult that could take them away from this _demon_.

And then Stiles would turn around, having noticed the change. His boy wasn’t a wolf but he was _something._ Despite having a child’s undeveloped senses, he always knew the exact moment when Peter would enter a room, even when the wolf used his abilities to move without a sound. Stiles would turn, and his face would light up with that smile that was for Peter’s eyes only. He would drop whatever weapon he was using- usually a fork, and Peter blames Stiles’ strange attachment to that tool on himself after he put on ‘The Little Mermaid’ one rainy afternoon, and run towards him, flinging his chubby arms around Peter’s neck as the wolf swung him in the air and held him close to his chest.

‘G’d morning Peter’, Stiles would say mumble as he rubbed his check against Peter’s stubble. Even though it occurred almost every morning, Peter still felt the same hot flare of delight and possessiveness as his boy scent-marked him. Some days, Stiles would feel especially affectionate and he would rub his little hands over Peter’s cheeks, smearing blood onto the wolf’s skin in the process. Of course, that wonderful, rusty scent of blood only served to make Peter happier.

By then the plaything would be crying, realising that they would not be saved. Stiles was a nightmare that not even Peter could’ve have dreamed up.

Today it’s oddly quite, apart from Stiles moving around he hears nothing. Peter walks quickly to the kitchen, curious. Stiles is sitting at the table, a stack of slightly burnt pancakes in front of him.

‘I don’t remember giving you permission to use the use the stove, unsupervised’, Peter says as he sits down across the table from his boy. Stiles simply grins, and pushes the plate towards his wolf.

‘I know, but I really wan’ed to make them for you an’ and you hav’ to try them, k?’

Peter sighs in mock contemplation, before taking a bite. They’re surprisingly good and he tells Stiles just how proud he is. His boy’s heart stutters in happiness, and he smiles before ducking his head, trying to hide the blush reddening his cheeks.

It’s only after Peter finishes his breakfast that he wonders who Stiles has chosen to play with this week. It’s a female, brunette neither particularly fat nor slim. She’s lying face down on the kitchen tiles, the zip ties around her wrists pointless as she’s out cold.

‘How did you manage to do that?’, asks Peter as he prods the toy with his foot.

‘I was on the computer an’ I read how to make chlo…chlorfem’

‘Do you mean chloroform?’

‘Yeah! That’s the one. I made it, all by myself’!’

Say what you want about karma, but there must be some deity that believes Peter deserves this wonderful boy that’s in front of him. Peter never once believed in the concept of soulmates, of two souls being _perfect_ for each other but sometimes Stiles makes him wonder…

He rolls over the body, and stills in shock after recognising her. Memories of being trapped inside his mind and his body painfully, slowly tried to repair itself surface. _Hot, screaming, all dead, they’re all dead, and Laura and Derek, why did they leave, why, why, don’t go, please stay, stay with me, alone, Jennifer, I know what you are, they’re all dead, I can help, hate Laura she LEFT me, you don’t have to be weak anymore, kill her kill them all…_

‘Peter!’

He jolts. He’s still sitting in the chair but his claws are gouging marks into the rosewood dining table. Stiles- his boy is clutching his legs, the top of his head reaching Peter’s knees.

‘I’m s’rry, don’t be mad, please I’m s’rry…’

Peter forces his claws to retract, and he breathes deep before reaching down to pick Stiles up and place him on his lap. Stiles hides his face in Peter’s chest, clearly distraught. He’s still muttering apologies into Peter’s Henley.

‘Shhh, Stiles, I’m not angry. I promise I’m not.’ Peter continues to soothe Stiles, and holds him, slowly rubbing his back until the boy’s sobs subside.

‘Stiles’, Peter has to focus to make his voice stay steady, ‘Stiles, do you know who that is?’

Stiles nods. ‘Yeah, she’s the mean nurse the one who was s’pposed to look after you when you were in da hospit’l’

‘Ok. Is that why you want to play with her? Because she…because she hurt me?’

Stiles raises his head and shyly meets Peter’s gaze, before nodding.

‘I thought…I wan’ed to play with her with you. I break my toys quick’y an’ I wanna spend ALL day with her. Will you help me?’

The question is asked in a quiet voice, as if Peter could deny his boy anything. A sudden burst of affection warms his chest, and he cups Stiles’ face before pressing a single, bruising kiss onto his forehead.

‘Anything for you’

 


End file.
